


Swan Queen Week: Summer 2016

by allthatsleftbehind



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7725397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthatsleftbehind/pseuds/allthatsleftbehind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, these two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Confessions

“Exactly how drunk are you, Miss Swan?” 

Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen Regina’s eyebrow quirked quite so high and if it were any other time, she’d probably burst out laughing. As it is, she’s got something on her mind — something that, if she’s being honest with herself, has been on her mind for way too long now — and she’s too busy trying not to vomit to find much funny.

“Pleasantly buzzed,” she deadpans. Or at least she hopes it comes off that suave. “On a scale of one to completely shit-faced, I’d say I’m at about a four point five.” Okay, maybe closer to an eight, but Regina doesn’t need to know that. Emma screws her mouth into a smile she hopes to gods says “endearing and irresistible savior” but is pretty sure translates a little more “struggling to stand up.” Oh well.

“Eloquent as always, I see.” Regina, clad in silk pyjamas and a matching robe, is trying to be the picture of sternness but Emma can’t fight the little somersault her stomach does when she sees her son’s other mother trying to suppress a smile of her own  — rather unsuccessfully, she notes. Nice one, Emma.

Regina crosses her arms and leans against the door jamb, her brow still raised expectantly. Emma doesn’t know how or why she’s shown up at Mifflin St. at 11:30 PM on a Sunday night. The shots she had at Granny’s an hour before are both at fault and the excuse she’ll rely on if this all goes downhill. What is this, anyway? 

Hook is done, gone, finito. Has been for awhile now. When you go to hell and back for someone, you’d think there’d be an unbreakable bond between you, but that certainly hadn’t been the case for Emma and Killian. Turns out, they didn’t know how to do normal. Instead of offering a welcome respite, the calm following the shitstorm of the past few years had been smothering and it was only when she left the pirate behind that she came up for cold gulps of fresh air in the form of time with Henry… and yes, with Regina. 

The breakup was easy; the relationship nearly ended itself. Emma started hanging around the mayoral mansion more and more as she drifted further and further away from Hook. At first it was because she was worried about Regina after the loss of Robin; later it was because it was the only place she felt like she could be herself, where no one expected anything of her except for her to be Emma Swan… and to finish off the last of the lasagna so that Regina could get on with loading the dishwasher. 

She cared about Killian. Loved him, even, though not in the way she knew she should — a realization that coincided with the one that brings her to Regina’s door tonight. Ahem. 

“Emma?” Regina’s voice goes up a register, a hint of worry that something’s wrong because when isn’t it? Like the Savior, the former Evil Queen still hasn’t settled into the quiet because in her experience, nothing good ever comes of it.  
The lilt in Regina’s tone is enough to snap Emma back to reality and to restore a modicum of sobriety.  

“Hey,” Emma says, though she doesn’t quite know why. She hasn’t come here to make small talk, so why can’t she just spit it out? Idiot.

“Hey,” Regina returns, and Emma sees the stressed tightness in her jaw go slack, her eyes return their gentle openness that she’s sure is reserved only for herself and their son. She moves aside to make room for Emma to pass through into the foyer, which the blonde does without hesitation, kicking off her boots beneath the coat rack and wringing her hands. Courage, Swan. You’ve faced an ogre — you can tell Regina Mills you have feelings for her. 

That’s putting it mildly, of course. Even standing in the same vicinity as Regina sets Emma’s magic singing, crashing against the confines of her skin and setting it alight. She’s beautiful, spectacular, regal and if Emma doesn’t kiss her soon, she’s pretty sure she’s going to lose her mind. 

They’ve moved wordlessly to the kitchen, Regina worrying herself over the teapot in a way Emma recognizes. Regina’s nervous too. Does she know what’s coming? 

“I’ve been thinking,” Emma starts, scraping the edge of her fingernails along the length of the countertop as she walks closer to where Regina stands. 

“Always a dangerous prospect.” Regina chuckles but it comes out more like a gulp, and the fact that she’s not pressing Emma to just get on with it makes her think that her confession won’t be as much of a surprise as Emma originally thought.

Alright, Swan, out with it. 

“I’ve really loved spending so much time with you lately,” she begins. Lame, but it’s something. At least she’s talking. 

Regina looks up at her then, smiling broadly in a way that melts Emma’s legs into jelly (no, it’s not the tequila). 

“It’s been good to have you here. I know Henry seems a lot happier with both of his mothers in the same place." 

Emma’s heart drops. "Yeah, and I love spending more time with the kid, but I meant —”

“I know." 

"You do?” Of course she does. 

Regina pulls two mugs from the cabinet, followed by two canisters. Into one mug, she drops an herbal teabag; into the other, a measure of instant coffee grounds. She’s making Emma wait on purpose, or maybe she’s steeling her own reserve. When she turns to lean her back against the kitchen’s island, Emma is there in front of her — unexpected but not unwelcome. She rebounds quickly. 

“Yes, I do. And I… really like spending time with you too." 

Emma can’t help but notice how young Regina looks in this moment, the dim overhead light casting a golden sheen over her cheekbones. She’s almost timid, and Emma has never found her more beautiful.

Well, that’s something. Emma wills herself to speak, but she can’t quite find the words to say exactly what she means in a way that Regina will understand. Do they exist? Emma’s not a romantic — ugh, gods forbid, the very word makes her want to dry heave — but she looks at Regina and she wants and wants, down to the last molecule of the woman. She wants to absorb every atom of Regina into her own bones, to protect her, love her, show her what a precious thing Emma knows she is. 

Instead, she starts with this: "I think I love you." 

Smooth, Swan. 

Emma sees Regina’s breath catch, but she covers the glitch, busily pouring the now boiling water over the waiting mugs, saying nothing at all. 

Okay, Emma sort of expected that. She didn’t give her much to go on, but since she’s come this far, she might as well keep going. 

"I mean I know I love you. And not just because you’re Henry’s other mom or because we’re friends or because you make the most incredible cheesecake I’ve ever had in my life — though that certainly helps —" 

Emma takes a deep breath before barreling on. She’s come this far, might as well go for broke. 

"But you’re perfect, Regina-” she hears rather than sees Regina clucking her tongue in retort, but says nothing. “You’re perfect for me. You’re strong and stubborn and sometimes downright infuriating but you’re also so fucking brave and beautiful and even really funny sometimes and you don’t even realize it. I know I’m not what you had in mind when you envisioned your happy ending. I’m not refined or graceful or put-together or… anything near what you deserve but-" 

"Emma." 

"I don’t know, I think we could work. We’re already great co-parents - the kid has turned out amazingly well, even though that’s mostly down to you and-” 

“Emma." 

"I don’t know, I don’t even know what I’m saying. I mean, I do know what I’m saying - I’m not drunk, Regina, so please don’t blame this on that because-” 

“Em-ma,” Regina growls low, the hum of syllables vibrating in her throat. It’s firm but patient and hits the bottom of Emma’s stomach in a way that takes her breath away. When she looks up, Regina is standing close, so close, and Emma finds she can’t meet her eyes. 

Regina doesn’t give her a choice. Using her index finger, she tilts Emma’s chin up so that they’re face to face, eye to eye, the warmth of their breaths mixing in the crack of space between them. 

Regina studies the blonde’s face in detail, her gaze intense and unreadable. Neither of them says anything for what feels like an eternity and while part of Emma wishes Regina would put her out of her misery already, part of her knows that something has shifted, that maybe she hasn’t made as much of a fool of herself as she first thought. 

Finally, it’s Regina who speaks, a smirk barely hidden on her face. “Are you still ‘pleasantly buzzed’?" 

Emma, unable to speak, frantically shakes her head no. She’s never felt more sober in her life. 

"Good, because I want you to remember this." 

She leans in then, so tortuously slow that Emma feels the drag of time like molasses. If it was anyone else, any other time, she would have grown impatient, closed the distance between them herself, but this is Regina and she’d wait forever for what she believes is coming next. 

Regina cups Emma’s face in her hands and brushes her lips against Emma’s cheek - not quite where the Savior was hoping, but the moment feels so weighted, so utterly holy that she doesn’t dare move lest it be taken from her - kissing her there so tenderly that Emma’s heart feels like it’s cracking wide open inside her chest. She kisses Emma’s eyelids one after the other, her forehead, taking all the time in the world and with such deliberate care and Emma has never felt so loved in all her life. 

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Regina’s thumbs brush the tears from her cheeks, and she opens her eyes to look at the brunette finally. Emma feels not a little embarrassed, blushing at her inability to hold it all together. She doesn’t cry, so why is she crying now? 

Regina smiles, one of those dazzling, unbridled smiles that makes her look even more beautiful than usual, and Emma notices the glassy sheen of tears in her eyes too. 

"You are everything, Emma Swan. Everything I never knew I wanted and needed, everything I fought against, everything I nearly lost too many times-” Here, she pauses, seemingly searching for what to say next. 

Emma doesn’t wait for her to find it. Instead, she moves forward again, her pulse pounding so heavily in her ears that it cancels out all other sound. She pushes a strand of hair behind Regina’s ear and leans in to kiss along her jawline, relishing the small gasp that escapes her lips as she makes her way to the queen’s lips. There, she devours her, and every confession both of them have ever needed to make is given freely, wordlessly, in great detail.


	2. Day 2: Travel

Being super busy means I can't write every single day, so Day 2 is a little Regina/Emma text exchange. Preview below, but full thing is [HERE.](http://ohrighttheconsciencething.tumblr.com/post/148655961425/swan-queen-week-day-2-travel-in-which-emma)

[ ](http://ohrighttheconsciencething.tumblr.com/post/148655961425/swan-queen-week-day-2-travel-in-which-emma)

 


	3. Day 3: Insecurities

Four days. That's how long she's been avoiding Regina. Four long, agonizing days spent berating herself, moping, rationalizing... and yes, definitely mentally replaying the last time they were in the same room together, alone, crossing lines that they had no business crossing. She didn't know how much longer she could keep it up, keep dodging phone calls, ignoring texts, driving the long road out to the town line just to try and quiet her mind even for a second.

She'd kissed Regina - or had Regina kissed her? They'd kissed each other, their magic sparking in an elaborate dance before fusing into one long current that ran between them, indistinguishable as separate entities. True love magic - Emma wasn't stupid, she knew right well what it was. Regina had pulled away from her mouth, her eyes hooded with desire, and breathed her name into the soft skin of her neck as she nipped there, pulling her closer, closer... 

And then suddenly Emma couldn't breathe. She'd run away, because of course she had. Because while she was no longer with Hook, his parting words months earlier were still lodged pretty tightly in her brain. She hadn't broken up with him because of Regina - Emma hadn't even so much as mentioned her name - but that didn't stop Hook from using her as a scapegoat for Emma's decision to leave him. 

"You think she wants you? You may be a princess by birth but you've never quite been able to leave that little orphan girl behind, have you? I don't mind a little desperation myself, but the queen? Keep dreaming, love." 

Emma knows it was bravado, that he was lashing out because he couldn't handle the sting of what he felt was defeat — the Savior was a prize to be won, a battle to be conquered, and her decision to walk away was unacceptable. And yet, it was true, wasn't it? The latent fear of being left, the insistent clinging to anything and anyone who showed her the slightest bit of interest... it'd been why she'd given into Killian in the first place, no?

But she's grown, gotten a little of her spark back. Caring enough about her own happiness - or being unsatisfied with her unhappiness, at the very least - to leave him was a start. She didn't do it for Regina, but to say that Regina wasn't always at the back of her mind (or at the very forefront, who's counting?) would be a lie. Their kiss in Regina's foyer four days ago made that clearer than ever.

Too bad Hook's words had that sliver of truth to them. Emma has grown, yes; she's worked through a lot of her issues with Archie lately, but she is, at her core, still the little unwanted girl who will never quite measure up to anyone's expectations of her as a daughter, a mother, a savior... least of all her own.

Emma leans her head on the steering wheel of the Bug, closing her eyes and sighing deeply. And then suddenly she isn't alone anymore.

"Exactly how much longer are you going to avoid me?" 

Regina's voice is firm but calm, a slight prickle of impatience dotting the question. Emma doesn't dare look up. What is she supposed to say? And how on earth did Regina even know where she is to be able to do the poofing thing right into her car? And why —

"Emma," Regina lowers her voice to an almost whisper, touching her forearm gently. For such a small amount of physical contact, the magical effect is... palpable. A warmth radiates from where Regina's palm rests on her arm and spreads throughout her body, bringing with it a dose of inexplicable calm. She couldn't pull away even if she wanted to, and she definitely doesn't want to.

"I'm sorry," Emma says finally, lifting her head but not quite meeting Regina's gaze. She knows she's being ridiculous, immature, but she feels backed into a corner. She's kissed Regina now; she knows now what the brunette feels like, tastes like, the small sounds she makes in the back of her throat when Emma pulls her closer. It's so much better in reality than it had been in all the times Emma had imagined it — and gods, had she spent years imagining it at this point — and she can't just pretend it had never happened. But neither can she... well, what is the other option? Emma is pretty sure there isn't one.

"Look at me." It's a command, regal and certain, and Emma obeys without delay.

She expects Regina to be furious, but she sees nothing resembling anger in her face when their eyes finally meet. Instead, Emma is on the receiving end of a look so open and tender that it nearly breaks her right then and there. Regina is a thing of wonder, like magic itself, and Emma has to fight to keep herself from kissing her again right then and there. 

"You don't have to be sorry, Emma. You just have to tell me what's going on. If you left because you were sorry you kissed me and you thought I'd get the wrong idea, well, it's okay. I would never assume—" 

Regina's words pull Emma back to herself. Wait a minute. Regina thinks she ran away because she regretted their kiss? Because she thought Regina might assume she actually feels something for her beyond friendship and it's not true? 

"It's not that," Emma stutters, searching for words and coming up dreadfully short. 

Regina purses her lips in a mix of curiosity and disbelief. 

"Well then, what is it? I thought maybe you didn't—"

"I did."

"So then why—"

"I was scared." 

"Of what?" 

Emma sighs deeply, wringing her fingers together in her lap. Now Regina is getting impatient, she can sense it and she doesn't blame her. A queen never waits, right? Ha. 

"You." 

"You were afraid of me?" Regina's voice cracks on the final word and Emma knows she's said the wrong thing. 

"Of my feelings for you." Emma is so bad at this, but she's trying to be good, she wants to be good, to make Regina understand that she was protecting her from the inevitable disappointment the Savior would bring her if they were to take things further. 

"I see," Regina responds simply, but Emma can tell she very much doesn't see. 

"I'm afraid I'll ruin it. Us. Because I always do. Because I run, or if I don't run, I stay and I hold on too tight and it's smothering. Because I've wanted to kiss you for so fucking long and once I did, I felt like every single thing I've ever been through in my life - being sent through a tree by my fairytale parents and giving up Henry and becoming the Dark One and going to hell and back - all of it was worth it for that very moment. For you. But I don't deserve you, Regina. You're everything and I'm... well, I'm just me." 

Regina takes a deep breath, trying to gain purchase on the present while processing what Emma's said. She's had an inkling, of course, of the reasoning behind Emma's running — she battles with similar fears of inadequacy herself — but not the depth of the blonde's feelings. Feelings that match her own. 

"You're never 'just' anything to me, Emma. And have you forgotten who you're talking to? I was the Evil Queen. I hurt people, killed them, nearly destroyed heaven and earth because I was afraid... afraid of forgiveness, of moving on from Daniel. Afraid of the possibility of feeling truly alive again... and then I met you." 

Regina is crying now, but she lets the tears fall freely down her face. She's had enough of being scared, of worrying that she doesn't deserve happiness, of believing that the deeds of her past should control her future. The longer she lived, the more she understood that if an opportunity for joy or love presented itself, it was up to her to grab it and hold onto it tightly and never let it get away. And that's exactly what she was doing with Emma.

"And I met you," Emma whispers, and her own eyes threaten to spill over. 

Regina kisses her then, her fingers tangling in Emma's hair, their breaths transferring between them. Emma feels herself relax into Regina's touch, giving in to the other woman's tongue swirling in her mouth, and suddenly she's not afraid anymore. How can she be when she's held in such capable, safe hands? 

Pulling her closer, Regina kisses a trail up Emma's jawline slowly, all the way to her ear, where she whispers the most beautiful refrain: "You're enough, you're enough, you're enough."


	4. Day 4: Illness

Beyond the heavy wooden door, silence. That is, perhaps, the most worrying of all. Regina inhales deeply, smoothing her dress in an attempt to assume an air of confidence, certainty. She knocks lightly, three times in quick succession, and immediately hears the click of heels gaining in volume before the door swings open. 

Snow attempts to plaster a vague smile on her face in greeting, though it translates to more of a grimace. "Regina, please, come in." 

Entering the room, Regina surveys the scene before her. Snow returns immediately to Charming's side and they stand rigidly, their brows furrowed with concern. Leaning against the stone windowsill opposite them stands Hook, who makes no efforts to hide his disdain, his lip curling in disgust at her arrival. She doesn't waste even a second matching his ire, her own distaste for the pirate very much besides the point at the moment. Especially when... 

Emma lies prone on the velvet chaise, her skin chalky and sallow, as she stares blankly at the ceiling with veiled eyes, saying nothing. The sight is jarring and unexpected. To Regina, Emma looks simultaneously so young and yet so weary, like she's seen the end of the world but has been rocketed back in time to live out each day painfully full of dread for the inevitable future. 

"She won't speak... not to any of us," Snow offers. "It's like she's not here. Help her, please, Regina." 

Regina turns to Snow, nodding slightly in a way she hopes is convincing. The truth is, Regina doesn't know how to help Emma or if she could even if she did know what to do. 

"Certainly if the Savior's own parents and lover can't help her, the Queen will have no such luck." Hook's voice is full of bravado and scorn with a slight edge of... jealousy? Regina doesn't know and she doesn't have time to do much besides shoot a withering look his way before Snow is cutting in. 

"If anyone can help Emma, it's Regina. Emma would want her here," she says, moving forward to give Regina's arm an encouraging squeeze. 

"Snow's right," Charming adds matter-of-factly, and then the three of them are leaving the room all at once.

Snow gives her one last pleading look before pulling the door closed behind her, and then it's just Regina and Emma and so many unanswered questions. 

***

Regina is, for once, at a loss. She paces the length of the floor, wringing her hands and intermittently looking down at Emma on the chaise, her blonde hair hanging in knotted curls off the edge, her gaze unfocused, far away. She'd seemed okay this morning when they last spoke, before Regina headed off to play the hero of Camelot, and now Emma is... here but decidedly very much not, and Regina can barely stand, she's so terrified. 

Emma is still breathing, at least; Regina watches the slow rise and fall of her chest until she's nearly doubled over with sadness and guilt. It is, after all, Regina's fault that they're here at all. If Emma hadn't sacrificed herself for Regina's happiness, she'd have never become the Dark One and she would be awake, present, probably wearing that god-awful red leather jacket and being her usual annoying (oh, who is Regina kidding? Emma had long since ceased being annoying and has become downright endearing) self. The realization forces Regina to choke back a sob. She is anything but happy. 

Think. She just has to think. Regina lowers herself onto the edge of the chaise next to Emma, pressing the back of her palm to the skin of the blonde's forehead. Clammy, slightly feverish, but nothing alarming. She allows her knuckles to sweep the apples of Emma's cheek and lingers them along her jawline before coming back to herself. What in the hell is going on? 

It's as if Emma is simply... transfixed. As if she's simply zoned out, just like does whenever Regina starts lecturing her about paperwork deadlines or when she voices her concern over Emma's alarming weekly bearclaw intake. But this isn't that, and the hopeless feeling that claws at Regina's chest knocks her breathless and unbearably nauseous. 

"Emma." 

Regina doesn't expect simply saying her name to work, so she isn't disappointed or surprised when she receives no response. Emma's face remains passive and unmoving. 

The room is cold despite the late summer sun glaring through the window, which overlooks one of the castle's courtyard. Regina shivers, then decides to turn to the only thing she truly knows: magic. 

Taking Emma's hand in her own, Regina closes her eyes and turns inward, allowing her magic to reach out to Emma's. It responds immediately, which is a good sign, though it's dark and heavy in a way that threatens to repel her violently. But Regina holds tight, pushing through the choking black smoke in an attempt to get to the light she knows exists at the core of Emma. 

The going isn't easy; the Dark One considers Regina a threat, unwelcome, and does everything it can to get her out, to push her back so it can swallow Emma whole. But Regina is stronger, and the closer she gets to the essence of Emma, the more she can feel that essence reaching back, trying to work with Regina to free itself from the Dark One's hold. 

Regina knows she just needs one more big push, so she focuses on a feeling: the same one that flooded her the moment Emma took on the darkness for her. It wasn't a new feeling by any means, but in that moment it had asserted its presence and insisted it could never be ignored again; something like love but more molecular, cellular, that buried itself deep in the marrow of her bones. 

She reached out for Emma and Emma reached back and suddenly they were tumbling back into the present, Emma gasping as if coming up for air after too long under water. Immediately she launched herself forward into Regina's arms, panting and sobbing and holding on for dear life. 

It's the first time Regina's held her like this, but she doesn't think twice before wrapping Emma snug against her, one hand on her lower back and the other knotted in Emma's hair. 

"I've got you, Emma. I'm here," she offers, and she realizes Emma isn't the only one shaking. 

Emma sobs, grabbing onto the fabric of Regina's dress and desperately trying to claw her way out of whatever abyss Regina had nearly lost her to. 

"Regina," she chokes out once, twice, a mantra grounding her in the real world. 

"Emma," Regina responds, a certainty she offers herself that they had one another and they always would. 

** 

Time bends and blurs until it becomes untraceable. The sun is dropping behind the trees before Emma's breathing begins to slow, her grip on Regina loosening. She pulls back slowly, her hands still holding the brunette's arms, and studies her. 

Regina waits for her to speak. She herself says nothing as she reaches a thumb up to wipe the stray tears from Emma's cheeks before pushing her hair back over her shoulders and behind her ears. Suddenly she feels incredibly awkward, not because there's anything strange about being this intimate with Emma but because she knows she could spend the rest of her life doing it and it would still never be enough. 

The green in Emma's eyes has returned, her irises sharp as diamonds. Regina notices that she looks suddenly shy, opening and closing her mouth several times as she searches for the right words. 

She settles on: "You found me." 

"Of course I found you." 

"Of course." Emma's lips crack into the tiniest smile that sets Regina's stomach fluttering. 

"What happened?" 

"I... I don't know. It's the Dark One. I thought I could be okay, I could fight it because I have light magic but it's tricky. It tricks you. Every time I get frustrated, sad, angry, confused, it's like it knows and it uses that and tries to pull the light part of me deeper and this morning it sideswiped me and I just... I couldn't..." 

Regina reaches down and squeezes Emma's hand to quiet her. It's too much too soon, but what had happened this morning to allow the darkness to get such a hold on Emma? 

"When I asked you to save Robin. This was my-" 

"Regina, stop. No. That wasn't your fault. I'd have wanted you to do the same for Hook, I-" 

"I made you use dark magic. Of course you were angry. I disrespected your wishes, your needs." Regina feels guiltier than ever. She'd nearly lost Emma and it was all her fault because she'd been selfish yet again. She was afraid of losing what she'd been told was her final chance at love but what use was keeping Robin alive if Emma was gone?

"That wasn't why I was angry," Emma says pointedly, much to Regina's confusion. 

"Oh?" Regina meets Emma eyes then, so much swirling between them that they don't need words or magic to translate. 

"Oh," Emma says, reaching for Regina's hand again. Regina turns her palm over, allowing Emma to trace the lifelines there before pressing their palms together and tangling their fingers together. 

Regina allows a tear to slide down her cheek and looks down before voicing her biggest fear: "I almost lost you, Emma." 

"But you didn't. You found me." Emma is certain and proud as she squeezes Regina's hand tightly. 

Regina says nothing, so Emma continues. "The darkness is like a sickness... it tries to destroy everything good. I thought I was a goner. I was still fighting but I needed help and you came for me. You brought me back, and I... Regina, I..." 

Regina meets her gaze then, saying her name once, softly, hoping that Emma will understand. 

She does, of course. Using her free hand, she cups Regina's face and Regina leans into it, resting her cheek against Emma's palm and exhaling deeply. 

And then Emma's lips are on hers. The kiss is soft, searching and exactly what both of them need.

"You found me," Emma says again before pressing her mouth against Regina's a second time, nipping at Regina's bottom lip more insistently. 

"Always," Regina responds, and nothing has ever been more true.


	5. Day 5: Sleeping

Regina can fall asleep anywhere now, and often does. On the couch, her head resting in Emma’s lap, Emma’s fingers winding the tips of her hair into spindly curls. In the passenger seat of the Bug, pretending to be preoccupied with something out the window but powerless against heavy eyelids. Once, even at the mayoral office mid-afternoon, though Emma is willing to accept at least partial responsibility for that one, given how little rest they’d gotten the night before. Ahem.

Nonetheless, the ease with which Regina slips into the depths of slumber seems to be a recent development, since every time Emma searches through the extensive archive of their shared memories, there’s Regina, hopelessly awake at all hours, beholden to nightmares, worries and monsters that seemed to rear their heads only after dark. Seeing her rest now feels something akin to holy to Emma, and she does a lot of whispering, tip-toeing, being as quiet as possible so as not to disturb the sleeping queen.

It had taken a while for Regina to feel comfortable enough to drift off around Emma. Descending into unconsciousness left her vulnerable, exposed, and what if…? She didn’t know the end of that question, nor did she know the exact moment things changed. She’d always felt safe with the Savior, but allowing herself to let go completely had taken time and happened so naturally that neither of them noticed it.

Well, Regina hadn’t, anyway. Emma is still awe-stricken and wonder-filled about the whole thing. While the brunette sleeps, Emma spends more time awake these days than ever before, unable to take her eyes off the resplendent woman in front of her, beside her, on her, against her, depending on the situation. She studies Regina’s features inch by inch, committing them to memory so that she never, ever forgets that she’s the recipient of such a gift.

Regina sleeps with lips parted, pink and slightly pouted, the soft flutter of her eyelashes fanning against her porcelain skin. The unabashed admiration and sheer sappy love Emma feels for Regina when she’s in this state is one of the cheesiest and embarrassing things she allows herself, but then Regina sighs from somewhere deep down and moves further into Emma’s embrace and, well, how can she not love this woman and this moment and this life for everything they’re worth?

She’s never said it aloud to Emma, but Regina often wonders what she’s done to deserve her - a woman so brash, stubborn, beautiful, accepting - and the absolute protection she offers willingly and without a second thought. It’s a comfort Regina has never known in her life, a luxury she wants to sink into deeper and deeper and be swallowed up by. How could she have lived so long without such a definitive love?

She knows she’s being greedy, allowing sleep to overtake her again while Emma still lies awake, but she can’t help it. The exhaustion of the past decades, too many of them to count, has compounded and it’s only in Emma’s arms that Regina can begin to shed the layers such a profound tiredness has laid on her. And besides, Emma doesn’t seem to mind.

Regina wakes early, the first trickle of sunlight peeking through the mostly closed blinds. Beside her, Emma lies with mouth wide open, legs akimbo and blonde hair splayed across her pillow and some of Regina’s, as well. One hand lies on her stomach while the other holds tight to Regina, the constant contact the other woman’s body being the most important measure of all being right in the world.

Emma’s dead to the world. Regina wonders how long it took her to fall asleep after Regina herself had drifted off. She feels alive, awake, and she stands up to stretch, pulling open the curtains to the morning light before returning to the bed and sitting down next to Emma. Pushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, Regina gently attempts to stir the Savior from sleep as gently as possible, but there’s nothing graceful about Emma’s response.

“Five more minutes,” she whines with eyes closed, turning onto her side and curling into a fetal position. Regina laughs softly, a sound that always stirs the deepest part of Emma. She cracks one eye open, looking up at Regina skeptically and half asleep. It’s an invitation, and Regina doesn’t need to be asked twice.

“Five more minutes,” Regina responds, crawling back against Emma’s body. Together, they rest just a little longer.


	6. Day 6: Arguments

They rarely fight, but when they do, it’s jarring, frightening and not for the faint of heart. They never do it around Henry, of course — to subject him to such uncontrolled fury would be unthinkable — and thankfully they can feel it coming like a storm on the wind, so there’s always time to prepare, to clear the way for what will surely be, well, something that no one else should be present for.

Once alone, they let their rage and frustration reverberate off the walls of the mansion until it shakes on its very foundation. Dishes are smashed, windows break, and white hot magic spreads out over their skin, singeing and scorching into the open air until it covers what feels like the entire town of Storybrooke. Sometimes it lasts an hour or two, other times all day — that all depends in how long it’s been since the last time and how much they have to get out. Every shred of darkness in them both comes pouring out, and you know what? It’s actually okay.

They’re safe. Regina knows she’s no longer the Evil Queen. There’s no danger of reverting, nothing left to do to prove that she’s changed, she’s different. Emma trusts that implicitly, which is what makes the release so sweet. Likewise, Regina offers Emma the opportunity to be free from expectation, a few moments to slip off the Savior’s cloak and scream until her throat aches and her lungs burn. Neither directs this at the other; rather, it’s let off into the atmosphere like steam from a kettle, and then they come back together. Calm. Relieved.

That was the thing with true love magic: it was unpredictable. Light and dark combined between the two women to form bonds and abilities that were unheard of and would be unbelievable had it not been happening to them. It was the sheer limitlessness that sometimes set Emma and Regina’s blood humming with unresolved energy, an overwhelming feeling of luck, awe, love, and fear of losing it that made them edgy and annoyed. It was those small seconds that built until there was no place left for so much *feeling* left to go but into nothingness.

This was one such occasion. Emma was already so far gone that she couldn’t remember what started it. Snow had been annoying her, Regina’s characteristic rigidity had rubbed her wrong, Granny’s was out of bear claws, whatever. Everything was on her last fucking nerve and it took nothing more than Regina walking into the kitchen wordlessly, sighing loudly as she set her bag on the counter for Emma to snap. Standing up from the table, where she’d been sat eating some bowl of sugary cereal, Emma all but threw the bowl in the sink.

Steeling herself against the counter with arms wide, her back still to Regina, Emma growled, “Fuck!” and the bowl cracked in half.

“Now?” Regina asked, and Emma simply nodded in response. The Queen had, of course, been expecting this. And if Emma needed it to rebalance and come back to herself, she wouldn’t be denied it. Truth be told, Regina hadn’t been feeling quite right the past few days either, so it was just as well.

Like always, the fight was wordless, save for grunts and shouts and the occasional expletive. Since neither had really done anything wrong, there were no accusations to hurl, no hurtful insults to attempt to wound the other with. Instead, their magic did the arguing for them, zapping back and forth in a display that was impressive both for Emma and Regina and anyone who might have been looking on.

Lifting her lip in a snarl, Regina unleashed a stream of magic that sent Emma flying against the wall. She slid to the floor but wasn’t down long before launching a return attack, the mirror behind Regina’s head shattering into a thousand tiny pieces that rained down over the brunette. They’d replaced the damn thing three times in the past year — Emma’s magic just couldn’t seem to help itself when it came to displays of bravado — and if Regina wasn’t so annoyed by the fact that she’d have to place another custom order, she might even have laughed. Magic could clean up most of the damage it had caused, but the mirrors were never quite the same.

She didn’t have time to think, of course. Emma had only just gotten started. She smashed two living room lamps, sent cracks down the center of the brick walls and started a small fire that Regina extinguished with little more than a wave of her hand before giving as good as she got. Plates and glasses came crashing out of the cabinets, flying by Emma’s head before smashing against the walls.

In a dash in inspiration, she relieved Emma of her beloved red leather jacket and transported it directly into the fireplace, which she lit with barely a second glance. It was a slight of hand, of course — the real thing was up in their bedroom now and it was a cheap facsimile which Emma watched burn, her fury rising. Regina smirked, licking her lips with a raised eyebrow as if to say, “Your move.”

And on it went. Neither was ever harmed, of course. That’s the thing with true love magic: it protects those it binds together in a protective net which leaves both of them unscathed and unshaken. They’d discovered it a year earlier accidentally, when using their combined magic to fight off some new big bad in town had rebounded, knocking Regina halfway across town. Emma had been terrified, frantic… only to find Regina out by the town line, rubbing her head in annoyance and cursing her dead phone battery. She’d called the brunette an idiot, using her own insult against her as she hugged her probably a little too tight before kissing her. Everyone had a story, and this was theirs. A small part of it, anyway.

It wasn’t until hours later that Emma came down, holding her hands up in resignation just as Regina was threatening to fireball the Bug. And just like that, with the flick of a switch, they were themselves again.

Regina moved forward, gathering Emma into her arms with ease.

“Okay?” she asked, her voice soft as she pulled the Savior flush against her.

“Okay,” Emma responded, her arms wrapping tightly around Regina’s waist. They kissed then, their heavy love settling over them, restoring them to one another.

“Good,” Regina said, smiling. “Help me clean up this mess. Henry’s due home for dinner any minute.”

And with a wave of their hands, they felt whole again.


End file.
